BETTER OFF

BETTER OFF

Anthony Bridgerton x reader (enemies to lovers)

A/n: This is not my first writing on this blog but it is significantly longer and perhaps written better. I want this to be a series so let’s see how popular this will get.

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton married you out of convenience and duty, hoping to suppress your outward personality over time. His efforts are in vain and getting worse as he begins feeling something more for you. Perhaps you are beginning to feel it as well.

Word count: 1668

You had tried. Truly, you had. It seemed as though avoiding the dance floor was close to impossible. Though you had expected nothing less, you were married to a bridgerton. The Viscount to be precise and the way he looked at you as you both glided across the dance floor was so forced that it made you visibly upset. “You could at least smile.” Anthony spat, noticing the slight scowl on your face. He was not the only one to notice, following his eyes you spotted a few guests whispering and gossiping, no doubt about you and your husband, their eyes nowhere but on you both. You shot the man dancing with you an annoying look and there was something in his eyes that made you give in, sporting a lovesick gaze and a blissful smile. “Better?”

“Quite so. Though, I hope you have not forgotten your duty as my wife.” If not for being in public, you would have groaned at the comment. Despite being married for only a few months, you were not as happy as you had thought. The moment is still fresh in your mind. It had been a quiet afternoon when it happened. Being in your first season, you were surprised when none other than the Viscount Bridgerton called upon you. Just the night before his mother had announced rather loudly that it was also during this season that he intended to marry. You’d watched him from the crowds and caught sneaky glances as you danced with other lords and earls much older than you. Finally, you’d found a moment to yourself, making way to the refreshment table. The single glass of champagne did little to steady you. Your father had insisted that you attend that night's ball and mingle. You argued with him to simply stay home and write in your notebook filled to the brim with your spontaneous drabble. He vehemently refused, telling you that it was your first season and that you needed to make an appearance.

“Do try not to drink it all in one go.” You heard a voice say, looking next to you to find that it belonged to one Lord Bridgerton. Of course, you knew who he was, the entire ton did. “Apologies, my lord. I did not hear you approach.” He seemed to assess you, his eye wandering your body. It made you slightly uncomfortable, though you would not allow him to see it. “It is quite alright. I must say, miss, you look a bit uneasy.” At that moment you wished you’d had a fan on your person. “I assure you it is not due to your presence. It’s just..” You trailed off, your eyes looking to the masses in the ballroom as your finger mindlessly tapped your glass. “It is just what?” He prompted, not sounding at all impatient with you. You looked into his eyes and sighed. “I despise these gatherings.” You admitted. The Viscount looked amused. His lips quirked up into a smile. “Is it not your first season?” He jested. At the question, you raised an eyebrow at him. “How did you-“

“Forgive me if I seem to be coming off a bit odd. I witnessed you as you arrived and made the decision to ask around about you.”

“A bit odd indeed, My Lord.” You retorted.

“Do not take offense. I only took such action because you are.. a mystery to me. Unlike most of the girls of the ton.”

“You do not know a young lady so you set out to gather any and all information on her? Am I too far off as to assume this is how you begin to court women?” His jaw fell slack and his mouth parted slightly. He hadn’t the slightest idea what to say. Little did you know, you had already checked many of his boxes. After a moment, he let out a defeated laugh. “Again I mean no offense.” He repeated, now wearing a confident smirk. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. “And I do not mean offense when I say this, my lord,” The Viscount raised an amused eyebrow. “You would do good to find a more effective way to impress a woman. Your tactic thus far is far too distasteful.” With that, you bunched the fabric of your silk dress in your hand after finishing your champagne. “I wish you luck on any future endeavors. I shall bid you goodnight.” Thankfully your father had witnessed the ordeal and was more than happy to allow the two of you to leave early as he had already begun to see the Viscount as a son in law. From that moment on, He had tried at every turn to court you. It began with him calling on you the next morning and soon developed into inviting you and your father to bridgerton house for tea. During which, you had become quite close with his siblings. You became quick friends with Eloise, bonding over your ‘radical’ ideas, You and Benedict had clicked due to his love for art and your affinity for poetry, you and Daphne had charming conversations over tea when she would visit and little Gregory and Hyacinth were quite literally obsessed with you. You’d much rather spend time with them than the man trying his best to court you, much to your father's frustration but Eloise and Benedict seemed to enjoy their eldest brother get rejected by you time and time again. One morning, shortly after breakfast, Lord Bridgerton called upon you whilst you were scribbling away in your notebook. You closed the leather-lined object as he entered and he made his way to you, purpose and determination in his eyes. “Miss Y/L/N,” He began, his voice even as he dropped to one knee. The action caused you to jump slightly. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my Viscountess?”

The way he spoke the words enticed you to say no, as you had done since the two of you had met. Unfortunately for you, your father stood on the frame of the door, watching you intently. Internally, you recall that you’d raged. Though in reality, you feigned a smile and said the word that sealed your fate. “Yes.”

It was quite the ordeal you’d gotten wrapped into. The Viscount noticed your bluntness and rebellious nature upon meeting you but considering you met most of, if not all, of his criteria, he figured he could tame you with time. He had since had no such luck with the endeavor. The Ball was long over and you two shared a mutual silence in the carriage home. “I feel I must remind you—“

“You do not.” You said quickly, cutting him off before he could speak. “Do not lecture me on how to be a dutiful wife, I assure you I am well aware thanks to your reminders.”

“Then of course you must be aware that as a wife, your display tonight was improper.”

“Do not tell me what is and is not proper!” You’d been so swept up in your argument you’d almost forgotten that your in-laws were also in the carriage with you. Violet, as she insisted you call her, looked taken aback. “Apologies.” You mumbled, turning your eyes to look out the window. When you finally arrived back at Bridgerton house, the nightly routine began. You went your separate ways, The Viscount to his office and you to the bedroom you shared. It certainly never felt that way. He would only join you long after you were asleep and left before you could wake. By now, you were used to it.

A knock came on your door as you were brushing your hair. You only hummed in response and you spotted Benedict enter the room. A look of shock washed over your features. “Benedict!”

“Good evening, Y/N. I’m hope I am not-“

“You are not. Please, sit.” You set your brush on the desk of your vanity as Benedict sat in a chair only a few feet from the bed. You remained seated, beginning to braid your hair. Benedict seemed to be at a loss of words. “Are you alright?” He asked, concern dripping from his words. You smiled softly and shook your head. “I am fine.” You lied. You hadn’t been fine since your wedding. “We all see it you know. Try as he might, my brother is not as skilled as he thinks of concealing his emotions.” Over time Benedict truly had become a brother figure to you. You would often sit together when your husband was busy (which was often) and Eloise was otherwise unavailable. He would occasionally give you advice as best he could on how to appease his brother but to no avail. Still, you enjoyed his company. “Your brother still believes he can tame me as if I am some wild animal.” You fussed with the ribbon meant to be tied around the end of your braid. Benedict stood and kneeled in front of you, and you in turn let him work his magic. “I would have been better off if I had said no.” You were not entirely sure if that was true. You could not deny that at least your husband was young and easy on the eyes, despite his continued attitude. “Do you also mean to say that you would have been better off not growing close to us?” He mused, tying the ribbon tightly around your hair. “Of course not, Ben.” You began, “I love you all deeply, but he is… he’s—“

“Stubborn?”

“Not the word I had in mind, but yes.”

Benedict returned to his seat, dragging a hand down his face. “Nothing I say will sway him, try as I might. Perhaps in time, the two of you will lower your weapons and become friends.”

You scoffed at the thought. It was amusing, you and The Viscount exchanging banter in a friendly manner. “If you say so. Friends.”

gonna post descendants ffs and my poems on here

THE DANCE OF THE BLACK WIDOW

bruce wayne x black widow! reader. this is based on the gotham verse but you can picture any bruce you want :3.

playlist: i did something bad - taylor swift, bellow the surface - griffinila, you don’t own me - saygrace, cardigan - taylor swift, static - steve lacy , dark red - steve lacy , softcore - tnh

[ a widow is trained like a machine, meant to have no emotions, no chance of feeling love…. but what if bruce wayne, the man she is protecting teaches her how to love. ]

[october 1st ]

“number 001, enter” dreykov called out to you, he was the owner and founder of the red room. the place you had trained at since you were a child, sat next to him was oswald cobblepot aka the penguin. you entered the big office room and you bowed your head to both men. “001, this is my friend and our new client, penguin.” dreykov smiled at you.

“hello mr. penguin, how may i be of use.” you turned to him and you saw his face light up. dreykov gave you the look. the look was kinda like a green light of sorts, like a code for ~go ahead show off your skills~. dreykov whistled and two big men entered the room, you walked down to a corner of the room, the men followed and when dreykov banged his fist on his desk you got to work, you punched and kicked and flipped both dudes until they dropped on the floor.

they were both bloody and bruised while you didn’t even have a scratch on you. “she’s amazing, my god!!” oswald clapped and laughed like a mad man. dreykov grinned. penguin looked at you ignoring dreykov. “what else can you do.”

“karate, judo, kung fu, wrestling and i’m trained in acrobatics.” your voice sounded almost emotionless and that’s what oswald liked most about you. “she’s skilled in every combat style, she’s a master assassin” you nodded. “I might know of a certain billionaire who might be interested in her” penguin smiled. “bruce wayne? he’s mere boy. what could he use my widow for?” dreykov rolled his eyes.

“all these villains want to kill him. a widow will do him good.” penguin laughed. you swore to god that dreykov gave a genuine smile. “why did u request 001. she’s fresh. i have more experienced widows.” he was right, you just started getting missions at fifteen. other widows like yelena have had over twenty eight years of experience. so why did he want you?.

“bruce is a man of particular taste, y/n is a young beautifully… dangerous woman, just his type”. after about ten minutes of discussion, dreykov dismissed you and told you to pack your things. if things go according to the plan bruce wayne would bid on you and win. you didn’t know why dreykov and oswald wanted bruce to bid on you? but you were raised to follow orders not to question them. widows just do. they don’t ask why and they never said No.

that night you returned to your chambers and started packing your things. all your belongings fit into one medium sized suitcase. you’ve done research on bruce, how his parents died. how villians want him dead. the things he cares about the most some theif named selina kyle, his butler alfred pennyworth.

it was the night of oswalds auction you changed into your stealth suit. it was black with a red hourglass logo on the belt. all widows had white hourglasses on their suits, but dreykov made yours red you never knew why. a handler woman named lorna came and escorted you outside where a limo was waiting for you. you grabbed your suitcase and opened the door. on one side it was the penguin and dreykov.

you sat down on the right side of the limo and sighed. this was going to be a long mission. Oswald cleared his throat “don’t worry, this is only temporary, right?”. dreykov nodded grinning a bit. “right. you’ll be back in two months.” he grabbed champagne and poured himself a glass.

•

you were tucked away in a corner with dreykov watching bidders bid on top of the line weapons, historical paintings that should have been givin to the gotham museum. you kept your eye on bruce he was bidding on some painting, all night he was just reckless spending money. “I LOVE ART. I LOVE IT! YEA” he screamed you weren’t even close to him at all but he was still so loud. “that kids an absolutely brat but he’s definitely gonna love you.” dreykov glanced up at you patting you on your shoulders. “why? does he need to love me.” you cleared your throat. “all in good time my dear.” he chuckled.

you heard bruce and a woman with a white bob have a bidding war over a knife. a knife for god sakes. “woah ms kean. that’s a lot of money, for someone like you” bruce shouted. what an asshole you thought. “TWO MILLION DOLLARS”. bruce just spent two million dollars on a stupid looking knife. you saw oswald run to the stand and bang the wooden gavel. “SOLD! to mr. bruce wayne” people applauded. dreykov chuckled. penguin gave dreykov the signal. penguin was going to go get him interested in well basically renting you.

bruce’s pov:

“i do love seeing that woman lose.” oswald laughed and applauded me. i gave him a fake cocky smile. i was still supposed to be acting like a complete brat after all. he came closer to me and whispered. “a little piece of friendly advice. barbara kean does not give up easily” i nodded pretending to be looking concerned. “she will be coming for that knife. i would just,uh, keep a close eye on it if i were you” oswald grinned. “or you could pay someone else to do it. like a highly trained assassin. she’s the best of the best. they call her a widow. im auctioning her off for two months.” oswald whispered even lower. now he kinda was peeking my interest. “i think you’d like her. you could use a henchman or in this case a henchwomen.” he patted my shoulders and walked back up to the stage. who was he talking about?

“well there’s a new wrinkle, isn’t it?” alfred sighed. “we should stay for the last item. i’d like to see her.” i turned my head back to the stage. “her? you do have a taste for the dangerous. don’t you master b” i rolled my eyes and chuckled. “i do need as much help as i can get against ra’s al ghul” i whispered.

oswald brought up a girl in a black jumpsuit on stage. she was well gorgeous , h/c hair, e/c eyes and a beautiful complexion. she had a a gun strapped on her left thigh. a red hourglass logo was on her belt. “a trained widow assassin. two months of safety guaranteed. she’s made to kill.” oswald laughed. the girl had said nothing. not a word. “can i get a thousand dollars.” i was about to raise my hand to bid but then a old guy in a red suit came close to the auction stage. “three thousand dollars.” the old guy muttered oswalds face changed to an annoyed look.

“five thousand dollars and 89 cents.” i raised my hand but this creep kept bidding more. “fuck off” I told him. i don’t know why but i needed to be near her. “a million and fifteen cents” oswald winked at me and raised his gavel to bang it on the desk. “SOLD! to mr bruce wayne again.” some people clapped, the others gave me dirty looks.

•

dreykov grabbed your suitcase and your hand and escorted you to bruce . you kept a smile on your face and you had your hands to the side, almost dangling over your gun. “mr. wayne. congratulations this is 001. my personal favorite widow” dreykov chuckled a bit. “so she’s a bodyguard?” alfred questioned. “yes and so much more. she has many different talents, ill pick her up november 30th unless you decide to rent her again. you bowed your head before speaking. “mr.wayne, i am at your service.” he smiled and shook your hand.

you shook alfreds hand and greeted him. “mr pennyworth” you bowed. “no need for that child.” he smiled. you were put off by it, it’s like a fake smile. maybe he felt bad for you. but you didn’t really know. you haven’t felt anything. only anger and fear. “so i’ll let you get going.” dreykov handed you your suitcase and left, probably going to find penguin. you clutched your suitcase but suddenly alfred grabbed your suitcase from your hands. “alright master wayne. miss 001. let’s get going.”

the car ride to bruce’s home was really awkward. he kept asking you questions about dreykov and about widows, you gave him very vague answers. “why do they call you 001?” he asked. “i don’t know. dreykov picked it out.” you said blank faced. “widows don’t have names?” he asked like a curious boy. a complete 180 from what u seen him act like at the auction. “some do. dreykov gives us names when he thinks we deserve it.” you sighed it was chilly in his car. alfred watched you two from the rear view window. “alfred when we reach the manner could you prepare tea, i have a lot of questions for 001”

• 

“don’t you feel that its dehumanizing that dreykov auctioned you off.” bruce sips his tea as alfred pours you some. “well i don’t really feel much of anything really. dreykov is like a father. this is how i repay him.” you bowed your head to alfred and sipped your tea. “how long have you been um- uh?” he choked on his words. “widowing? since I was fifteen so 4 and a half years.” his eyes wandered around your face. “you’re alovely miss. why become something so deadly” the older man asked while taking a seat next to bruce at the dinning table. “girls are often under looked by men. i use my lovely face to manipulate men and then I shoot them dead” alfreds eyebrows raised.

you really shouldn’t be sharing any of this with bruce but you did anyways it just felt natural talking to him. “i noticed at the auction earlier. that you have a red hourglass on your belt.” bruce placed a scone on your plate with some tongs. “it’s a symbol all widows agents have but only mine is red.” it wasn’t necessary to tell him the last bit, yet you did. “the black widow has an red hourglass marking” he bit into his scone. “i like it. that spider is deadly” you grinned “the name suits you well. 001 the black widow. doesn’t it alfred?”. “yes sir but she’ll need a name we won’t be calling her a bloody number.” alfred chuckled.

“im sure we will come up with something but in the meantime we will call her widow. is that ok with you.” he looked to you. “of course sir.”

[bruce’s study ]

it was big and rustic looking. lots of books on fancy looking shelves. he sat down on his chair in front of a desk. you adjusted your a suit a bit and made sure your gun was loaded and ready, as well as your escrima sticks. “do you ever have days off?” oh god more questions you thought. “nope. i love this job.” eh it was half true. “i don’t really know you but something tells me that i want to”

“mr. wayne there’s nothing to know.” you sat down on the couch near the desk. “on the contrary. i think there’s much to learn.” he grinned. bastard. you were feeling things you shouldn’t have. COULDN’T HAVE. widows don’t get butterflies in their stomachs. they don’t deserve it. love. you wouldn’t even know what it’d feel like. widows are basically like machines.

“i think i sense something sir. don’t be alarmed but im going to turn off your lights. stay put.” you walk over to the light switch and switch it off.

you stood very close to the window. you signaled to bruce to keep quiet. a couple seconds later a shadowy figure appeared in his study. you ran up and used your thighs to flip her over and on top of the ground. bruce turned his desk lamp on. “selina?” bruce said slowly like he wasn’t sure. “should I finish her off sir” you reached for your gun that rested on your thigh. “no. let her get up” you did as you were told. “ow! so this is the tramp you hired huh?” selina chuckled . “watch how you address her. she’s my widow.” he raised his voice just a little bit.

you felt a vibe between them. maybe they used to go out you thought. “apologies. we were expecting some else” bruce sighed. “who?” selina scoffed. “doesn’t matter. what are you doing here?” he sounded genuinely curious. you walked over to bruce’s side. you clutched your gun in you hands. you don’t trust the street rat you hear he is so infatuated with. “i heard about penguins auction” selina looked at you up and down. “so barbara sent you for the knife. figured i’d just hand it over” listening to these two bickering was hilarious. “something like that.” she smiled. “why’s it so important to her?”

“how should i know? she was supposed to get it for some client. a pretty dangerous guy.” selina huffed “and that if you were smart you’d hand it over and save yourself the trouble.” selinas eyes were calm. meant that she didn’t see bruce as a treat. that’s how she was able to talk to him so causally. “I spent two million dollars on it i think I’ll keep it” he began to raise his voice. you kept your words to yourself.

“why are you acting like this.” selina crossed her arms sounding a bit hurt. “me? what about you. are you barbara keans errand girl now.?” he stood up from behind his desk. “I’m her partner but she won’t see me as equals unless you do me this solid.” selina pleaded with him. “widow. you may be dismissed. there is no threat” you bowed and left the study leaving bruce and selina alone.

•

about an hour later alfred helped you settle into your bedroom. it was big and had plenty of room. alfred brought you some clean sheets and fluffy blue towels . you thanked the elderly man and bowed. “goodnight young miss.” he smiled and left you alone. you made your bed and unpacked some of your jumpsuits into one of the many closets. you grabbed a blue towel and went to shower.

you wanted to wash the guilt away. you grabbed your pill bottle and took two. dreykov would scold you if you didn’t take them. you packed a black pair of shorts and a tank top. a widows favorite pajama set. another thing you sneakily pack was a pair of pink pointe shoes. you didn’t enjoy much of anything but you did like ballet, tho you’d never say it out loud.

after you got out of the shower you brushed your hair into a tight bun. two knocks were heard. “widow.” it of course was bruce wayne. you closed your eyes and sighed walking to the door. “hello sir, do you need anything” you smiled. “no. i just want to let you know that im four doors down. and alfred’s room is downstairs. if you need anything.” he smiled.

“thank you sir” you bowed your head. “bruce is fine. tomorrow me and alfred have some errands to run but you are free to use the kitchen,gym and living room. alfred will set up a tv for you tomorrow” his voice was soft as silk, as sweet as red whine. “goodnight” he touches your arm and pats it. “night.” you said in response. he left leaving you feeling very much confused. how would you last two months?

viscount tewksbury 😩

i have feelings that are too real for characters that are fictional

THIS ATE- I literally screamed 😩

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 • dark!bruce wayne x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 • you know your best friend well enough to know that he's keeping a secret from you, you just can't figure out what— or why. but you're about to learn a lot of new things about him that you never could've imagined.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 • 4.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • this is a DARK fic!! (noncon, slightly yandere, slightly soft!dark), smut (unwanted creampie and very slight breeding kink?), NO spoilers for the batman 2022 in this plot!!, some angst, a knife but nobody gets hurt, unrequited love (or IS IT?!), emo bruce is emo

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐢𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

Your best friend had been acting strangely for some time now.

Though it was nothing new to see Bruce being sort of skulky and mopey— that was typical of the last twenty years without his parents— he usually wasn’t so avoidant, or hard to reach. You’d been so close your whole lives, ‘peas in a pod’ as Martha Wayne used to say, and up until somewhat recently, you saw him almost every day.

At first it was subtle, he told you he was just a little bit busier and you didn’t think much of it, you saw him less and less— and you figured it was a phase. It was May when you noticed, suddenly, that you hadn’t seen him in a week, and you couldn’t remember if that had ever happened before. By August, you realized this ‘phase’ had been much closer to indefinite than you originally expected; in September, he stood you up after agreeing to be your (platonic, obviously) date to a charity gala.

So, you were pretty done with his shit by October, when he left you on read after you inquired about holiday plans— because you always spent Thanksgiving and Christmas together, and you needed to start figuring out if you should host something at your place or if he was going to want you two to do something by yourselves.

Only a week later, you spotted him at an auction, not that you were too surprised to see him: you specifically attended because you knew he’d be there, considering a painting by Degas— which up until a few days ago hung in the parlor at Wayne tower— was on sale. For quite some time, Bruce had basically left the entire tower untouched, its gothic interior more and more like a mausoleum each day as he kept everything exactly how his parents had left it. It was a recent development that he had begun to donate old belongings and heirlooms, though you could tell from what you’d seen that he was getting rid of the stuff he’d never cared for much in the first place; he hated that Degas, he thought it was a blurry orange mess that your average kindergarten finger-painter could outclass. Honestly, you were happy he was taking control of the space, allowing himself to decide what he wanted to see in his own home every day— and the money bid on the painting would go to a fabulous cause, you just wished you didn’t have to keep tabs on him like this for only a stolen moment alone.

Quite literally stolen, actually, since he started avoiding you as soon as he spotted you at the event: you kept trying to find a good way to get to him, but then as the bidding began, he got up from his seat and started to leave. You got up to follow, and he moved faster. The bastard was literally just going to outrun you! Not about to let him get away that easy, you went backwards— around the auction room into the hallway he’d have to cross to leave. Apparently when Bruce Wayne was dodging your calls, you literally had to ambush him: you hid behind a pillar and waited for him to jog by to grab him by the sleeve and drag him into the shadows.

He yelped slightly, jerking his arm out of your grasp but trapped again by your fist snatching his lapel.

“What gives?” you hissed.

“I— I have to go,” he insisted.

“No,” you snapped. “You need to talk to me. If I’ve done something wrong, just tell me— but I’m worried about you and I need to know that you’re okay.”

“Why?” he dodged.

“I’m not letting you leave until you tell me that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled unconvincingly, and you deflated, anger sizzling out into sadness. You dropped his lapel and he relaxed slightly.

“Stop pushing me away, Bruce, please,” you breathed. “I miss you.”

He stayed stoic— of course he did— and just glanced down.

“Whatever’s going on,” you assured, “you can tell me. And if you can’t yet, that’s okay— you can tell me that, and I’ll wait. Just let me in, just a little bit? Please?”

His gaze darted around, and you reached up to rest your fingers on his jaw; that seemed to startle him slightly, but it got his attention, and you held his face to keep him looking at yours.

“Look at me,” you whispered. “It’s me, okay? Whatever it is, you’re not gonna scare me away— I’m just scared that you’re shutting me out.”

He blinked, sinking his shoulders down a bit, and exhaling sharply through his nose. “Okay,” he said softly. “You’re right, I’m sorry… we’ll talk tomorrow— come over for dinner.”

“Great,” you smiled.

“I may not be able to tell you everything, right now,” he warned.

“That’s okay,” you assured, “we can just start with ironing out Thanksgiving plans.”

He smiled, barely— for a normal person, it wouldn’t mean much, but for him it was a pretty massive expression of emotion and it soothed you greatly. It wasn’t like you’d never seen him laugh until he snorted and had tears in his eyes, it’s just that you hadn’t seen him like that in probably years now. You missed those glimpses of his joy so much; you hoped this was the beginning of a return to normalcy for the two of you, and you’d have a chance to make him happy like that again.

“Now go,” you offered, stepping back a bit, “do whatever mysterious thing you need to go do.”

He gave you a quick kiss on your temple before he departed, hands stuffed into his pockets and hair already starting to fall out of the style he’d gelled it into. You watched him leave, soothed at the idea you would get your best friend back soon.

~

You glanced at the clock, again, wondering if time was standing still somehow. It was almost 9 last time you checked, and now it was still only 8:59.

Either way, it was pretty late to still be alone at the dining table when Bruce had told you to come for dinner at 7. You toyed with the bracelet around your wrist; you’d dressed pretty nice, maybe a little too nice, because it felt like you were celebrating something. Now it just made you feel even more foolish for being here by yourself.

Alfred had checked in on you a few times, each visit less optimistic than the last, and he appeared once more with a sympathetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry, dear,” he sighed, “but Mr. Wayne will likely not return in time for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” you shrugged, “sorta saw it coming.”

“I can bring a car around for you?”

“Oh— no, I’ll wait,” you smiled. Alfred wrinkled his eyebrows together. “He’ll be back sometime tonight, won’t he? I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

His eyes darted around— you knew him well, he was looking for an excuse to get you to leave. Why didn’t he want you here? You were more sure than ever that Bruce had been hiding something from you by being absent for these months.

“I’m sure you have plenty to do,” you waved your hand, “I won’t keep you— you certainly don’t need to entertain me. I’ll make a visit to the library, explore a bit, and you can find me when Bruce is back, hm?”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Alright,” he decided.

When he was finally gone, you slipped out of the kitchen— but instead of going to the library, you wandered the halls much more aimlessly. Maybe you just hoped you’d find something to explain Bruce’s bizarre demeanor of late, maybe you were just killing time. He had replaced the Degas he sold at the auction with a new painting, a much more modern one you didn’t recognize; darker, abstract, a little creepy. Much more his style, certainly.

You tinkered on the piano in the parlor, admiring the view of Gotham from the window— yes, this city was filthy in a literal and metaphysical sense, but it was home, and you thought it was beautiful. There was a light mist in the air, not the heavy rain you got so often out here, and it made all the lights sparkle that much more in the deep blue night.

The distant sound of music, coming from one of the floors below, made you stop playing. It took a few moments for you to recognize the tune when it was so muffled, but the echo of the bass was familiar; Nirvana. Bruce must be home. You smirked to yourself… he was rather predictable.

You heard a door slam down the hallway, and you figured it had to be Bruce, because none of the staff would be so careless. Heavy steps started to move down across the creaky floorboards, and you silently leaned back on the bench— yes, just a few moments later, Bruce skulked by. He was wearing jeans and a baggy black t-shirt, but that didn’t give you much clue what he’d been doing since that was what he changed into the second he got home from any event that required anything nicer to be worn.

He didn’t seem to notice you, having forgotten you would be here tonight (you assumed) and not noticing you in the shadows. You thought you might just watch him until he noticed, but then you caught a glimpse of his face.

“Woah,” you chuckled, and he jumped, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “Did you just get back from a rager or something?”

“Huh?” he mumbled.

“The makeup,” you pointed to his face, and his hand shot up to wipe around his eyes. “Kinda lost control of the smoky eye, eh?”

You cringed when he started to rub his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Woah woah, hey, that’s not how you get that off,” you corrected, standing up and coming closer to grab his arm and guide it away from his face. Of course, you felt a lot more muscle under your touch than you expected; you cleared your throat as he looked down at you, eyes red from the irritation. “Let me help you, man, I’ve got micellar water in my purse.”

So yeah, that was how you ended up with cotton balls pinched between your fingers and thumb, carefully wiping the black off from around his eyes. The cleanser got the job done, but the application was so heavy that you had to go in a few times just to get it all— plus the grey-ish watery residue left behind each time you smeared a used cotton ball around.

“And then just a damp washcloth to get off the extra,” you explained under your breath as you wiped his face gently.

He looked up at you between strokes of the fabric over his face, his blue eyes especially striking when they were examining you so closely. “Why are you good to me?” he asked quietly, suddenly.

The question took you aback; it seemed so obvious that you weren’t even sure how to answer it, and at the same time it made you feel all vulnerable and warm. “I— I love you,” you insisted, “of course. Bruce, we’ve been friends longer than I can remember.”

Of course, this was not the first time you had told him that you loved him. It was also not the first time you said it somewhat strategically, so he wouldn’t realize your love for him was far greater than it was supposed to be; that being ‘friends forever’ was a compromise for you, the thing that made you happiest and broke your heart all at once.

“Gotta be careful going out to seedy parties at this hour,” you smirked awkwardly, “that’s when the bat-freak goes out and beats up random citizens. Watch your step.”

You slipped down off the bathroom counter, grabbing the used cotton balls from the edge and chucking them into a wastebin. You could feel his stare on the back of your neck; you even saw him looking at you when you checked the mirror in your peripheral vision.

“I mean, you’re not as poor and desperate as his usual fare,” you joked, “but still— watch out.”

“I’ll try,” he offered plainly after clearing his throat. “I’m sorry I missed dinner.”

You turned around and looked at him again, offering your best shrug and smile. “It’s okay. I just miss you, Bruce— I don’t understand what you’re going through.”

He looked down. “I know you don’t.”

You sighed and stepped closer, so he’d have to look down at you. “Give me a chance to try,” you pleaded. “Whatever it is— you don’t need to hide anything from me, okay? You can’t scare me away.”

He started to chew the inside of his cheek— he was thinking. And that was a good thing, it meant he was thinking about whether or not he could be honest with you. You just needed to convince him that he could be.

“C’mon, Bruce, it’s me!” you smiled. “It’s us— it’s always been us, nothing could change that.”

“You’d be surprised,” he challenged.

“I just want you back,” you sighed, “all of you.”

When he looked in your eyes, it was like he saw right through you; before he even said anything, you knew that he knew. “When you say that you love me,” he interrogated softly, “what do you mean?”

You tried to step back, but he grabbed your arm— not too hard, but… hard, still. “I…” you breathed.

“What way do you love me?” he demanded.

“The— the way that’s forever,” you offered.

“Don’t avoid the question,” he instructed. “Just tell me what you really mean when you say that.”

“I mean,” you began, looking off to the side because looking straight up at him would be too difficult, “that— that you’re my best friend. And I want you to be happy more than anything, and I… think about you, when we’re not together. And I don’t want you to be alone. Unless you want to be, but— but if you don’t, I just want to love you however you want me to.”

After he said nothing for a moment, you looked up at him again, and found his expression infuriatingly unreadable. “Come back tomorrow night,” he decided. “Late. Alfred will call and tell you when to come— and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Really?” you smiled.

“Of course,” he nodded, “because I love you, too.”

He didn’t say what way he meant it— but you felt it in his stare, in his hand on your shoulders, in the weight of his words. And you not only hoped, but really believed, that he might love you the way you meant it.

~

You threw on a dress and rushed to the tower when you got Alfred’s call, even though it was almost midnight… you weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight regardless. There was something difficult to describe in his expression when you saw him inside the tower. “Good evening,” you greeted, waiting for the resolution to the strange energy in the air.

“Mr. Wayne has asked me to take you to another part of the tower,” he explained, “where you can wait for him to return.”

“O…kay…” you agreed, confused but sort of indifferent. He took you to the lowest floor of the tower— the garage, which seemed like an incredibly strange place for you to wait for Bruce. It was stranger, even, when the elevator doors opened and you realized this was not at all the place you thought it was. “Wh—?” you started to ask as you stepped into the dimly-lit room, filled with things you didn’t recognize. There was a computer, itself surrounded by devices you’d never seen before, and clippings from newspapers— and journals, writing scrawled here and there all over everything. You knew Bruce’s handwriting, but none of these words made any sense coming from him. Among the menagerie of random, yet disconcerting, items was a knife: not like a kitchen knife or switchblade, it had a mechanical piece like it was meant to be attached to something. What was something like this doing in what used to be the Wayne Tower garage?

You heard the elevator door close, and you spun around to see the lift start to move— Alfred had left you rather unceremoniously. And you felt, in that moment, the only thing worse than feeling alone…

Not feeling alone.

You looked over your shoulder, turning slowly; your heart started to race as you looked into the shadows. Even though you prayed not to see anything, you still couldn’t look away. Embarrassingly, your knees almost buckled and you nearly crumpled onto the floor when a towering figure stepped out of the shadows. The points at the top of his head gave him away: the Batman. The caped crusader; the most prolific dealer of assault & battery to never see a day behind bars.

So, not really somebody you wanted to run into tonight.

At first, your instinct was that he was here to attack Bruce, though you couldn’t imagine why; but the way he was looking at you made you wonder how far he was willing to go to silence you— or if, somehow, he was here for you.

You grabbed for the knife beside you on the desk, but he was on you before you could even lift it in the air completely— he shoved you back into the wall as you whined, holding your wrist so tight you were forced to drop the blade. It clattered to the floor as you choked out a sob.

You waited for him to do whatever it was he wanted to do to you— because you knew you couldn’t stop him. Nothing happened; you waited for him to say something, then, but he said nothing. You were forced to soften your face from the perpetual wince of terror, so you could turn to look up at him and hopefully see why he hadn’t done anything.

Afraid to look at his masked face right away, your eyes lingered on his armored chest first, and the metallic symbol embedded in the center of it. Carefully, you moved your gaze higher and higher, finally finding the strength to meet his stare. It took you longer than it should have for you to realize, when you looked into his eyes. Well, that’s not entirely true: you realized instantly, you would know those eyes anywhere. It’s just that it took you a little too long to let yourself believe it.

He must’ve realized he would need to force you to accept the truth literally staring you in the face. He reached up— and no, you didn’t use the opportunity to try to run because it would’ve been useless anyways, and you were petrified in fear and morbid curiosity— and removed the mask from his head.

“No,” you said under your breath, because you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yes,” he insisted.

“I— this— you—” you started over and over again. “Oh, Bruce, what have you done!”

“What I had to,” he answered.

“What you do— it isn’t right,” you implored, “those people—”

“They’re not good people.”

“They have rights!”

“You love me,” he reminded you.

“I don’t even know you,” you denied, finally finding the willpower to walk away— but he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back again, keeping you still as your eyes watered.

“You said you wanted me,” he sneered. “All of me. This is who I am.”

“N-no it’s not,” you denied, “you would never hurt anyone, Bruce.”

“I hurt a lot of people.”

“But you’d never hurt me,” you whispered shakily. “You’d never hurt me…” you repeated, not sure who you were trying to convince by saying it.

“Not if I didn’t have to,” he responded eventually. You turned your head and he instantly grabbed your jaw, much too hard, with a gloved hand; you gasped and whimpered as he forced you to turn your face back towards him, wrenching your chin up. “Look at me,” he growled.

You bit your lip to stop it from shaking, staring straight into his eyes— they were so much darker now, and not just because of the black smears around them. “Bruce, you’re scaring me,” you mumbled nervously.

“Fear,” he replied flatly, “is a tool.”

In one swift motion, he swept aside most of the scattered papers and items from the desk and pushed you to bend down over it; you sobbed as you felt his grip tighten on the back of your neck and his other, gloved hand run over your back slowly.

“I knew you’d be afraid of me,” he admitted, “but you begged me to tell you. And now you know.”

His hand departed from your body for only a moment, and with your face turned to the side and your cheek pressed to the cool surface beneath you, you could just barely make out on the edges of your vision Bruce bringing his hand to his mouth to pull off his glove with his teeth.

You gasped at the feeling of his bare touch, reaching down to brush over your thigh just below the hem of your dress and slowly moving up.

“Bruce, stop,” you whispered.

“This is what you wanted,” he replied quietly. “This is what I wanted, too, but I knew you couldn’t understand. Now I realize that doesn’t really matter.”

You shivered when he lifted the skirt of your dress up over your back, revealing your panties; your face burned so hot it heated up the metal desk beneath you. You'd worn nice ones just in case tonight went well… this wasn't what you had in mind.

He made a low noise, like a deep, sustained hum, as he reached up and carefully pulled down the waistband of your underwear. You whimpered as the fabric dragged along your skin, feeling yourself become more and more exposed.

"Don't— don't do this," you began to bargain. "I'll just… I'll just go and I won't tell anyone and—"

"Is that what you think I want?" he sighed. "For you to leave? I'm so tired of being alone… you can't leave. I'm never letting you leave."

You panted anxiously, hardly believing this was Bruce, your Bruce, rubbing your bare hips and kicking your legs apart.

“Please, please,” you sobbed weakly.

“Shh, hey,” he soothed, “I won’t hurt you, it’s not going to hurt. It’ll feel good, you know why?”

He leaned in closer, so close that his lips brushed against your ear when he spoke. You felt the head of his cock poke at your opening and you whined.

“Because we’re made for each other.”

In one strong, quick stroke he filled you; you bit down hard on your lip and held back the cry that threatened to break from your throat. He let out a low moan, so deep that the bass of it made a chill run up your spine, and carefully began to move.

You were wet, way more than you should’ve been in a time like this, and you knew it was because of the fear rather than in spite of it. Fear is a tool. He was right after all. At least your arousal eased the pain a little… just not the pain in your heart, unfortunately.

He held your hips tightly for leverage, but the desk beneath you still scraped against the concrete floor cacophonously with every thrust. Yes, you'd wanted Bruce this way for some time— but not like this, of course. You wanted him to make love to you; he was treating you like a means to an end now, he was forcing you to accept every part of him in a much more literal sense than you wanted to believe.

This was clearly, to him, about making you understand that Bruce Wayne is the Batman, an alter ego of sorts. But to you it was about realizing that neither of them were who you thought they were.

When he held your arms tighter, guiding them under your chest and wrapping you up in his embrace, you realized you’d never felt so trapped before. He kissed your neck, and you hated that your back arched at the feeling even though you longed for the strength to squirm away.

“You love me,” he whispered again. “Don’t you? Tell me you love me.”

“Stop,” you choked, whining as his grip on your wrists tightened painfully.

“Don’t make me ask you twice,” he warned.

“I love you,” you whimpered. “I— I love you, Bruce. You… you’re hurting me.”

“Sometimes love hurts,” he explained nonchalantly. “All the most important love hurts.”

Unfortunately, you knew he was right about that; loving him all this time had hurt, in its own way, but never like this. Maybe this was just the cost of him loving you back.

“You said you’d love me however I wanted you to,” he remembered. “This is how I want you to love me. Bent over.”

Crying harder, your breathing got shakier and less useful— his weight sinking into you didn’t help with that, either. He wouldn’t suffocate you right here in this basement, right?

“Can you do that?”

You nodded, and sputtered when he started to fuck you faster. His breathing was hot and heavy against your skin, his hair was falling down around his face and tickling your cheek.

“This is what I need from you,” he explained. “I think you need this, too. I’m gonna give you what you need okay, just… hold still…”

You didn’t realize what he meant until a string of low groans filled your ears and you felt a throbbing inside you that wasn’t your own.

“No, n-not inside,” you gasped, “Bruce, wait—”

“You can’t leave,” he simply repeated, “I can’t let you leave…”

“Please,” you sobbed, “please—!”

It was too late to beg, or to struggle against his tight hold on you, or to cry when he bit down on your neck— but you did all three, just because you couldn’t do much of anything else.

He sighed as a dull warmth radiated from your core; you could feel his come starting to leak out and run down your thighs and you thought you might be sick. His weight was already crushing you, but when he relaxed and sunk down further, you honestly got the wind knocked out of you. “Bruce,” you croaked out, and he seemed to get the message because he pulled you back with him as he slowly lowered to the floor— and so you were held tightly to his chest and stuck in his lap while he leaned back against the wall.

You tried to move so he wouldn’t be inside you anymore, but he quickly grabbed your hips to keep them still. “Shh,” he soothed, “just keep me warm for a while, okay?”

You didn’t answer: agreement was moot, denial was futile.

“I love you too,” he breathed, eyes falling shut as he caught his breath, “by the way.”

“IM NOT A KID”

Dick x Reader | Y/n aka Robin just saved dicks ass |

tw: u got daddy issues don’t you squidward (iykyk) …. that’s why u reading this 🤣,

• smut, age gap, reader is nineteen and consenting

UNEDITED CUS ITS 4am 😘

⚠️STOP DON’T READ IF SENSITIVE⚠️

“You must be Dick, I’m Y/n the new new robin” you helped him up and smiled as he gave you a confused look . you stuck your hand out so he could shake it

“How did you know I was here?” he wiped off the dust off his suit and fixed his mask. “Batsy sent me and you’re welcome by the way” you rolled your eyes and pulled down the skirt to your robin outfit

“Buy me a drink will ya? meet back here in five i gotta change” you smiled and went to go change.

*

“So you’re the new Robin… but you’re a-“ you cut him off because you already knew what he was going to say. “A girl? yeah so? I just saved your ass” the man chuckled “Yea that’s fair”.

the bar tender approaches the two of you from behind the counter “what can i get for you”. “I’ll take a beer and uh strawberry lemonade for her” he looked at you scanning your features like he was trying to see if you were underage. the bartender nods and walks away to make them. “What are you like sixteen?” he says laughing. “Funny but I’m almost nineteen so technically old enough to drink… grandpa ” you whispered in his ear and rolled ur eyes.

he felt flustered by your sudden move of going close to his ear. “How’d you end up with Bruce?”. the bartender hands you two your drinks and leaves the little area you two are occupying. “it was a year after Bruce lost Jason , i was almost taken advantage of but I fought them hard and he was impressed and took me in” she took a sip of her drink and awkwardly smiled.

“And your family?” he asked taking a generous sip of his beer. “My mom was murdered when I was 15 so I’ve been alone for a while, and I never knew my dad.” he gave you a sympathetic look it almost made you want to cry and embrace him. “I’m sorry y/n” he rubbed your hand with his thumb.

“Is Jason still around or should I say the red hood?” he grinned at you. “Yes he came back to live with Bruce at the manor, sometimes they don’t agree but Bruce really loves him and JJ is sweet to me” you stirred your lemonade and chuckled

the tension between you to was thick you could literally cut it with a knife. dick starred at you like you were the only girl in the world, you wanted to believe in love at first sight but you were way to realistic for that kinda mindset. maybe you were attracted to him because you never had a father figure in your life besides Bruce but hey i don’t judge .

“Why robin you couldn’t be a batgirl? i could see you in babs old suit” he smirk at you. “He told me I could be batgirl once he found another respectable robin” you laughed . “Well looks like you’re gonna be stuck as robin forever, I mean how can u even fight in that skirt ? what if it’s cold or raining?” he asked looking deep into your e/c eyes with his hazel ones.

“I manage! That’s what makes me the best Robin this far cus I can fight in a tight ass skirt and in those ugly ass pants from my winter suit”

*

you two have been talking and laughing for hours after a while you asked him if he’d like to come over to your apartment ( bruce gifted it to u for ur eighteenth birthday) he said yes without hesitation. Dick bought beer and you called a taxi to take you two to your apartment complex it was NICE like as nice as gotham penthouse apartments get .

*

It’s been an hour and you two sat down in your living room downing more beers. “how old are you?” you drunkly said while drinking more of your beer. “I’m turning 28 next month” you grinned and took off your big sweater . “I like how it feels to be around you , we basically spent all day together just talking about my problems and the way u validate me-“

he took you by surprise when he kissed your forehead and rustled your hair like you were a little girl. “I get what you mean kid.” you rolled your eyes and smacked his arm annoyed. “I’m not a kid ok” it took him by surprise when you jumped on his lap and started to kiss him like his kiss was the cure to your issues… maybe it was or maybe you just wanted to kiss him. he kissed back passionately but then pulled away. “We can’t, I should go”

“I know you want me i can feel it poking , nobody has to know ok! It’s not like I’m in love with you” you started kissing his neck and he groaned when you began grinding on his clothed manhood. “Yes keep doing that” his voice started to crack he moaned and groaned as you grinded harder it felt so good.

He pulled off your shirt and unclamped your bra and you took off his button up and started kissing up and down his chest he threw his head back. “Let’s go into my room” you got up from his lap and lead him upstairs to where your room was.

when you got to your room he grinned and threw you on the bed and began sucking your breast and using his other hand to play with the other one. “D-Dick please” your sounds were like music to his ears

*

you sank into his manhood bouncing up and down your noises made him even harder and his praises made you leak with pleasure “Good girl keep going” he grabbed your neck and you moaned as he kept squeezing harder with each thrust.

in the morning you smiled when you saw dick bring you breakfast in bed. maybe this was going to be a whole thing, good forbid if Jason found out 😏

EEK that was my attempt at smut forgive me if it’s bad or to weird 😭 i wanna be an romance author so this was practice :) I’ll get better with time 👌